


The Queen's Ransom

by aworus



Series: Of Golden Possessions and Unhealthy Obsessions [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, Gen, Multi, Original work - Freeform, Queer Relationships, Queer Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-13 19:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13577166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aworus/pseuds/aworus
Summary: Rowen, a human/alien hybrid, is given the task to retrieve a stolen object, return it to its rightful owner, and kill the thief. With Rowen's extensive past of being a skilled assassin, the quest should have been fairly easy, but things begin to get complicated when she meets the criminal, thevery attractivecriminal by the name of Zafar.Matilda, also known as Zafar, is a rebellious human outlaw that has been granted magnificent powers by an ancient relic, a ring. She lives her life as a thief mostly unbothered until a very dedicated assassin gets in her way.





	1. The Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!! This work is a novel accompaniment to my webcomic, also titled The Queen's Ransom. This is mostly just a personal project, but if anyone would like to read, I encourage you to do so!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowen, a human/alien hybrid, is given the task to retrieve a stolen object, return it to its rightful owner, and kill the thief. With Rowen's extensive past of being a skilled assassin, the quest should have been fairly easy, but things begin to get complicated when she meets the criminal, the very attractive criminal by the name of Zafar.
> 
> Matilda, also known as Zafar, is a rebellious human outlaw that has been granted magnificent powers by an ancient relic, a ring. She lives her life as a thief mostly unbothered until a very dedicated assassin gets in her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work in a novel accompaniment to my webcomic, also titled The Queen's Ransom. This is mostly just a personal project, but if anyone is interested in reading, I encourage them to do so!!  
> Updates will be sporadic due to my already overflowing schedule, but I will try to post new chapters as often as I can!

Honestly, the mission was the easiest she had received in quite a while - at least, that's what she had thought.

If it were literally any other day, she wouldn’t be having any problems. But unfortunately, today was not ‘literally any other day’. Today was today, and because of that, Matilda Zafar Hayashi is completely and utterly fucked.

The only thing Matilda had to do was _“just grab the thing and go,”_ she didn't even have to steal it since it didn't belong to anyone. This quest brought her to the Manakiyan Forest, just three miles east of Rhegelia. Matilda knows that it is tremendously dangerous to perform the task so close to the City of the Two Queens, especially when one of them was looking for the same thing she was. That _thing_ is a ring, a _relic_. Relics are objects that can be worn or wielded, and they grant magical abilities to the one who possesses them. Matilda, looking for valuable objects to sell so she could support her struggling family, had taken it upon herself to search for the relic. To her, the ring was just another thing to sell.

That quest is what brings her here, running - well, more like stumbling frantically - through the forest, clumsily weaving through the trees and reciting every curse word that her older siblings taught her to use only in situations as bad as the one she is in now. She had been searching this wretched forest for nearly _three days_ , desperately looking for any sign of the ring. Honestly, it was _about time_ the Queen finally found her.

Matilda nearly jumps out of her skin when she hears that sharp, yet oddly lulling voice yell, _**“GET THEM.”**_

She laughs (a little hysterically) at the Queen’s wording. Matilda takes note of the fact that she chose to use neutral pronouns when referring to her, as if the Queen truly believed that the criminal deserved that ounce of respect, despite the fact that she is currently trying to literally kill her.

Mat glances back in the direction of the Queen's voice, and is startled to see that her and her three horsemen are getting dangerously close, no more than forty feet away. The horses - wait, _unicorns. They brought out the unicorns._ She feels a small swell of pride. The Queen believes she is enough of a threat to warrant the use of unicorns. She looks at the riders and is able to identify them from her limited interactions with them. Margo, Gale, and… Adara? _No, Agnes, her name is Agnes_. She's exchanged friendly smiles with the three of them as they pass each other wandering the town. She attended Margo and Gale’s wedding. _Oh, how things have changed._

At this point, the ring is far from the first thing on Matilda’s mind, right now, her first priority is to escape, to at least make it out of this situation _alive_. Now, don't get her wrong, she's been in her fair share of dangerous situations. She brushes against the shoulder of death at least once a week. But all of those situations simply added to the thrill, the exhilaration that came with being an outlaw. This time though, this time was different. The rapid beating of her heart and the hyperventilating are not from excitement, she's scared - no, _terrified_ , because she knows that this is finally going to be her demise.

Matilda soon finds herself in a large clearing in the forest, the stars in the cloudless sky above illuminating a tree in the height of its maturity standing tall in the middle of it. The tree seems to have grown out of a thick layer of rock that covers nearly the entire area. Carved in the smooth stone is an elegant pattern, something Matilda figures she would have seen on a stained glass window in a church if she had ever stepped foot in one. Six large lilies are sculpted in the stone, their leaves weaving to wrap around the tree in the center. It was an enchanting, albeit suspicious scene. 

Matilda ignores every logical thought in her head that screamed at her to leave, to **_run_** , as she slowly walks towards the structure in a trance-like state. She feels a slight pull at her chest that tightens its grip with every step she takes. She could have sworn she heard soft whispers of her name coming from the tree, small murmurs blending in with the rustle of the leaves. She glances down for a moment when she reaches a spot where the stone meets the surrounding grass, hesitating only slightly before she steps onto the structure, the panicked shouts of the Queen behind her falling onto deaf ears.

* * *

The Queen could not suppress her loud gasp as she watches the stone begin to emit a golden light from the ridges in the pattern, the outside edges glowing brighter than the rest. As the thief sets foot on the stone, a wall of light encompasses the entire structure, obstructing them from her view. She strides to the barrier separating her from the criminal she had brought upon herself to catch. The Queen approaches the wall, horsemen abandoning their unicorns to join her in getting a closer look. She hesitates before gingerly placing her hand on the barrier. She is somewhat surprised when it doesn't harm her, only continuing to let out a low hum as the magic vibrates under her touch. After only a few seconds, the Queen has to turn away due to the sheer brightness of the wall. She looks back at her three soldiers, her three _best_ soldiers, to see Agnes and Gale avoiding eye contact, looking anywhere but at their queen. The other soldier, Margo, is looking back at her apologetically, her eyes portraying a desperate attempt of comfort. 

She squeezes her eyes tightly as absolute fury consumes her entire being. The Queen whirls back around to attack the barrier, letting out a deep, guttural yell. She summons her magic just as her fist collides with the wall. A deafening explosion reverberates through the forest as the two powers meet. The Queen and her horsemen are forcefully flung backwards, the Queen’s back painfully colliding with a tree. She collapses onto the ground, wheezing as she struggles to take in a breath through the black smoke. As the fumes clear, her four eyes widen and her jaw drops. Frozen in place, she looks to see the golden wall separating her from the criminal is completely unscathed. Her eyes snap down to her gloved hand, still smoking from the amount of sheer, unadulterated power she had summoned in her attack. She glances back at her horsemen, who are hesitantly emerging from behind the trees where they had taken shelter from the blast. All three wear the same look of bewilderment. The Queen’s magic was never one to matched or rivaled, the only being with a similar amount of raw power was the _other_ Queen. As the Queen slowly looks back to the barrier, she finds herself feeling a foreign emotion, she feels... _helpless._

* * *

Meanwhile, Matilda is oblivious to the outside world as she leisurely walks closer to the tree in a trance-like state. Yellow light shines through the cracks in the stone, giving her dark skin a golden tint. When she is just a single step from the tree, she stops and examines it with confused interest. Something inside of her is urging her to take one more step forward, to… touch it? _She wants to touch it._ She slowly lifts her left hand, and extends her arm to touch the tree, but she hesitates. Her eyes flick down to her left hand, which adorns a green elbow length glove. _'No, that won't do,'_ she thinks, _'I want to **t o u c h**.'_ She lifts her other hand and pulls the glove off, discarding it carelessly on the ground beside her. She glances back up and lifts her now ungloved hand to touch the tree, and this time, she doesn't hesitate.

Matilda really doesn't know what she expected, all she knows is that it wasn't _this._ The bark of the tree begins to move. It twists and shifts slowly around her hand. She snaps out of her stupor and attempts to pull her arm away because _‘no no no eww I don't want to touch anymore I don’t like this’_ , but her hand is glued to the tree. Her panic increases when the bark begins extending and moving to engulf her hand. The stone under her feet begins vibrating, causing cracks to form along the ridges in the design. The golden barrier around her begins to darken as the bark slithers further and further up her arm. She desperately tugs at her hand, the tree's grip becoming more and more painful every second. She would scream for help if not for the fact that the only people around were currently trying to kill her. She squeezes her eyes tightly, a few tears slipping out, as she grabs her captured arm with her other hand, and _pulls._

She gasps as she stumbles backwards and away from the tree, landing on her bottom a few feet away. The barrier around her, which had faded to black during her struggle, now slowly turns back to its original color. The tree, which had just tried to _literally kill her,_ slowly retracts its bark before going completely still, _as if it was just a normal fucking tree_. Matilda, still in shock, shakily reaches her involved hand up to wipe at her eyes, smearing the tears on her cheeks. As she does this, a small glimpse of gold catches her eye. She jerks her hand away from her face to see that her left hand is not only unharmed, but adorning a golden ring. She squints to get a better look at it. The ring is decorated with small engravings along the band. As she turns her hand, she sees that it has a small emerald with four facets, outlined in gold. Her eyebrows turn upwards in confusion only for only a second before she lets out a small gasp as her mind supplies her with where she’s seen it before.

#### FLASHBACK

_‘This is ridiculous, I can't even go to the library like a normal person.’_ Matilda - _er - Zafar_ thinks as she somewhat ungracefully pulls herself through the window of the building. She briefly peers inside to make sure all inhabitants have left, and jumps over the ledge to land in a crouched position on the floor below. She pulls her hood down and turns on her flashlight so she can navigate through the darkness. Her steps are silent, practiced, as she makes her way to the back of the library, dragging her fingers along the books occupying the shelves. She reaches the last bookcase and begins scanning for for the information she came for. She comes across a book with a worn brown spine with two golden lines on each end. There's no title, but something tells her that this is _exactly_ what she's been looking for. She pulls the book off of the shelf and makes her way to the nearest table, where she places the book down, scattering the dust accumulated over years of disuse. She puts the flashlight in her mouth, holding it with her teeth as she flips through the pages, scanning the paper for anything worth her time. All of the pages are either blank, wrinkled, or stained with... _god knows what_. She halts when one of the pages catches her eye. She leans forward and takes the flashlight out of her mouth to hold it closer to she book as she begins to read. 

"ولتحقيق هذه القوة على واحد،  
غضب قاتل من الأرض والشمس.  
من هذه اللعنة المتعرجة، لن يتم إطلاق سراحهم أبدا،.  
الله يساعد على التغلب على الجشع."

_“To bring this power onto one,_  
_this deadly wrath of earth and sun._  
_From its plaguing curse, they will never be freed._  
_God help the one overcome with greed.”_

Below the mildly disturbing quote, is a drawing of a ring. The sketch seems to have been drawn in a haste, if the smudged lines and ink splatters are anything to go by. The ring is pictured with small engravings on the band and a rhombus shaped gemstone. Zafar instantly knows what it is. The ring is a relic, an item of unfathomable power, and - more importantly - unfathomable worth. She had been looking for items of value to sell for money to provide for her struggling family. Her usual routine included simple pick-pocketing and petty theft. Zafar knows this would be different. Relics hold tremendously powerful magic, magic that could rival the Queens'. She doesn't really care about the power though, Zafar was after the money, not for herself, but for her five siblings and aging parents. If she were able to obtain this relic, then the Hayashi family would be set for life. They wouldn't have to worry about whether or not they could afford to have dinner, they could buy a house where every sibling would have their own room, and maybe, just maybe, Zafar - no, _Matilda_ could go home. 

Zafar stands up and gingerly rips the page out of the book, careful as to not tear any of the words. She returns to the bookshelf and places the book back where she had found it. She looks down at the wrinkled piece of paper in her hand for a moment before folding it neatly and placing it in her cape pocket. She then strolls back to the window from where she had entered. As she pulls herself onto the ledge, she glances outside to see the sun just beginning to rise. The thief just sits there for a few minutes, enjoying the peace that she so rarely gets to experience. Looking down at the ground below, she sees the people begin to open up their shops and wander the streets of the town. She sighs softly and leaps down from the window ledge, falls two stories, and stealthily lands in a roll on the ground. Just as people begin to spot her, she pulls up her hood to once again obscure her face, and begins to make her way to the forest just three miles outside of the city. There, is where she would begin her search. 

#### END FLASHBACK

Matilda snaps back to reality, still staring at the ring. She glances around, taking inventory of her surroundings. Wisps of yellow magic dance in the air around her and the golden barrier continues to let out a low hum.

But something is wrong.

The tree that has just presented this power upon her is visibly wilting, turning into a pale grey color, leaves shriveling up on their branches and falling to the ground. The stone beneath her feet is only emitting a subtle glow, shining dimly through cracks that definitely were not there before.

Matilda already feels the relic’s magic coursing through her. Its weak, but warm and comforting. She relishes in the feeling for only a second before squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head, knowing that the power would soon be gone. 

* * *

Meanwhile, The Queen and her soldiers are a _mess._

“WHAT THE HELL!?” Agnes - ever the articulate - yells, stomping up to the wall and joining her friends, who are equally as baffled.

“Margo,” Gale addresses their girlfriend calmly, they always seem to be the most level-headed of the trio. “You said that they weren't a magic user.”

Margo is visibly flustered, pacing back and forth, eyes darting side to side, looking for an answer that she is unable to see. “There were no accounts of them ever using magic!” She would know, she had researched this case for weeks, getting every single scrap of information on the thief that she could find (which admittedly, was not much.) “This-this just doesn’t make any sense!” She seems to ponder the situation briefly before slowly continuing, “Well, not unless… unless-”

“Not unless they have a relic.”

The soldiers gasp at the Queen’s interruption, all three whirling around to face her. The Queen stands with her back towards them, staring at the barrier, completely still. The trio exchange hesitant looks, Agnes’s elongated ears twitch slightly under the stress, Gale takes a small step back. Margo somehow gathers the courage to break the silence.

“Y-you really think…” She trails off, unwilling to state the obvious, terrified of the Queen’s reaction.

“Yes.” The Queen says as she turns around to face her soldiers, who flinch slightly. “They found the ring.” She lifts her gaze to look at the trio, who peer back at her with varying degrees of fear, they knew how much she wanted to capture the criminal. The Queen closes her eyes and sighs. 

“Come on team,” she says sternly, “let’s _go._ ” She begins walking back in the direction they had come from, her soldiers hesitating slightly before following. “We won't be able to fight them like… _this._ ” She practically growls the last word, fists clenching at her sides. She looks at the wall of magic and her anger grows, enraged because this - this _child_ has managed to escape from her grasp so many times, they’ve outran and outsmarted her for so long.

Within her feelings of rage, is a touch of fear, because if this human is able to best her without any magic, what will they be capable of with the power of a relic?

* * *

On the other side of the barrier, Matilda regains her bearings, recovering from the previous events. She stands up and is surprised at how steady and _healthy_ she feels, no evidence of the fact that she had just run three miles and watched her life flash before her eyes. She strolls to the barrier, the side opposite of where the Queen and her soldiers would be waiting for her. She reaches the wall and its hum grows louder, as if sensing her presence. She raises her hand, the one adorning the ring, and presses it against the barrier.

* * *

The Queen and her soldiers turn back to watch as the wall begins to glow brighter and brighter until it rivals the luminosity of the sun. White strands of magic twist and twirl around the barrier. The wind suddenly intensifies, shaking the trees around them and pulling the leaves from their branches. All four of them are immediately thrown harshly to the ground. The Queen glances back at her soldiers to see Gale holding an unconscious Margo in their arms. Agnes struggles to keep her balance as she yells profanities heard only by the wind. The Queen looks back at the barrier helplessly, praying to no one but herself that this would be over soon.

Somehow, her prayers were heard, because the wind stops abruptly, and for the first time in what seems like forever, there is silence. The forest slowly grows darker as the magical barrier fades. The Queen hesitantly opens her eyes and glances back at her crew, scanning for injuries. Agnes is laying flat on her back in the dirt, breathing heavily. She has a cut just above her left eyebrow, it looks fairly shallow but it’s bleeding profusely. She slowly leans her head to the side and spits out the blood that had accumulated on her lips, likely from biting it with her inhumanly sharp teeth. Gale seems to be in the best shape, other than a few scrapes - a particularly nasty one on her left cheek - they seem fine. Margo’s injuries are undoubtedly the worst. She lays on the ground with her head in Gale’s lap, a pained grimace twisting her soft features. The Queen cringes as she notices blood beginning to stain Margo’s hijab, likely from being violently thrown to the ground by the wind. She instantly regrets bringing them here, she had no idea that the criminal was this dangerous.

_Wait..._

_The criminal._

The Queen whips her head around to where the barrier had previously been, frantically searching for the thief. She gasps as she sees the ruins that used to be a beautiful structure of stone. The tree in the center is grey and dead. Her eyes lock on a figure on the other side of the horrible scene. The thief, staring directly at her. The Queen just stands there, completely frozen, out of fear or shock, she isn't sure. A small smirk makes its way onto the criminal’s face as they hold up their hand, showing off their new accessory. The Queen’s eyes widen as she sees the ring on their finger. She had known that they had found it, but a small part of her still hadn't wanted to believe it.

She looks back up at the their face, her four lilac colored eyes meeting the thief’s two golden ones. See, in this world, there is something called a _pact_. A pact is an agreement between a person and one of the two Queens. The person agrees to remain loyal to the Queen they have chosen, and in exchange, the Queen promises a future of safety and security. The two Queens' names are _Soliela_ and _Lunalei._ If the citizen chooses to make a pact with Soliela, their eyes will resemble the shape of a sun. If they choose to make a pact with Lunalei, their eyes will resemble a moon. As the Queen, Lunalei, locks eyes with the thief, she is able to discern a vague shape. Their pupils are oblong and surrounded by eight triangles, resembling the rays of a sun - an obvious pact with Soliela.

The thief stands there only for a second, before swiftly turning around and fleeing the scene. The Queen just stands there and lets out a small sigh, accepting that today would not be the day that they would be caught. She turns back to her soldiers, seeing Agnes and Gale speaking quietly to each other as Margo rests, eyebrows furrowed slightly as she sleeps. Lunalei walks towards the trio, the two conscious ones turning their heads to look at their queen with heartbreakingly defeated expressions. She kneels down and carefully slips her hands under Margo’s back and knees, and lifts her up bridal style. Agnes and Gale shakily rise to their feet, still disoriented from the previous events. Lunalei looks around for the three unicorns that the soldiers had used to get there, unsurprised to see that they had been scared away. She looks back at her crew and sighs.

“Come on, let's go home,” she says softly as she turns to walk back in the direction they had come, towards her kingdom, her soldiers trailing behind her.


	2. A Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowen and Lumiere enter the scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!: A panic attack is briefly described in this chapter. There's nothing really graphic, but I feel like I should warn you guys anyway. Be safe friends!

_123 years after the end of the prologue_

* * *

**“ROWEN!”**

A girl frantically navigates through the never ending labyrinth of hallways in the palace using nothing but her memory and knowledge that only comes with fifteen years of experience. The sound of her heels meeting the granite floor fills the corridors, accompanied an occasional _“excuse me”_ or _”sorry”_ as she pushes her way through the nobles who are important enough to step foot in the castle. She rounds what seems like the thousandth corner and narrowly avoids colliding with a boy running in the opposite direction. Murmuring a rushed apology, she continues on her way towards the door at the end of the hallway. She stops just outside of her destination and slumps over with her hands on her knees, taking a moment to catch her breath. After her heartbeat slows to a normal pace, she straightens her back and smoothes out the wrinkles in her dress, trying to look at least _a little_ presentable. She then takes a second to breathe out slowly in an attempt to compose herself before she walks in. She lifts her subtly shaking hand and cautiously pushes the door open.

She’s been in this room nearly a hundred times, but its magnificence never ceases to amaze her. Columns line the walls with large windows with cream colored curtains placed in between each one. The back wall is entirely stained glass. The light of the rising sun shines through the window, casting soft hues of blues and purples onto the walls and floor. The thing that always takes her breath away though, is the throne in the center of the room. The throne is pure granite _(she doesn’t understand how that could possibly be comfortable)_ and easily twenty times her height. The armrests are carved in a way that resemble crashing waves, and on the back of the throne, there is an intricate engraving of the moons and stars. It was a magnificent sight, including the one sitting in the middle of it.

The Queen - _her Queen_ \- lies dramatically draped across the throne with her head hanging off of one of the armrests and the back of her hand covering her eyes. The girl watches as the Queen takes a sharp breath in, obviously about to scream again. She wisley decides to make her presence known before the entire kingdom’s eardrums burst from the Queen’s yelling.

“Ma chère Reine,” she starts, her voice portraying a confidence perfected through more than a decade of conversations with the Queen, “My apologies for the delay. I am here now.”

The Queen, Lunalei, shoots up, removing her hand from over her eyes to find the source of the voice. Upon seeing the girl in front of her, a look of childlike giddiness takes over her features. A wide smile spreads across her face as she stands up from her position on the throne to embrace the girl in front of her.

“Rowen! I’ve been waiting for you, it feels like I haven’t seen you in _forever!_ ” The Queen exclaims as she walks towards the girl. With every step, she morphs her body to shrink in size until she is the height of a normal human _(while still exceeding Rowen’s height by more than a foot.)_ The Queen has to crouch slightly to hug the girl, but neither of them mind.

A slight blush colors Rowen’s cheeks, flattered by the adoration in the Queen’s voice. An adoration only heard in the way a mother talks to her child.

“You know, we spoke just two days ago.” She says as the Queen pulls away from the embrace.

“I _know,_ but that’s _so long!_ ” Lunalei whines, placing her hands firmly on Rowen’s shoulders.

“You, someone who has existed for billions of years, believe that two days is a long time?” Rowen asks with a small smile and quirk of her eyebrows.

The Queen dramatically pouts and hangs her head as she turns to walk back towards her throne. Rowen already misses the physical contact.

“Yes! A couple of days without my baby Rowie feels like an _eternity_!” She says as she once again grows in size to sit on her throne. Rowen’s face immediately turns red at the mention of her childhood nickname, the fins on either side of her head flare out, showing her embarrassment. Before she is able to conjure a response, Lunalei continues. “While I do wish my only reason for calling you was to see your darling face, that simply is not the case.”

Rowen visibly perks up, she already knows where she is going with this. The Queen has a mission for her. It’s been _so long_ since she's been given something to do. In an attempt to contain her excitement, she plays dumb. “What do you mean, Ma Reine?”

“I have a _very_ important job for you,” The Queen says. Rowen’s giddiness falters slightly. The smile that she is so accustomed to seeing on the Queen’s face is absent, her eyes, usually an open book, hold no emotion. Before Rowen can respond, Lunalei continues. “Something has been stolen from me, something tremendously important and tremendously dangerous if in the wrong hands.”

Rowen finds herself frozen in place, watching as the Queen slumps over in her throne, two fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. She looks… _defeated_. A terrifying emotion to see on one of the most powerful beings in the universe.

Lunalei sighs and looks back up, her eyebrows are pinched together and her bottom set of eyes are closed tightly. “Rowen,” she starts, her voice stern, “you know what a relic is, correct?”

Rowen, confused, slowly nods. The story of the relics is no more than a folktale, a bedtime story boring enough to lure children into unconsciousness.

The Queen straightens up, a sudden bout of confidence taking over her features. “Rowen, your quest is to find the relic that has been stolen from me, and to bring the thief to me. I want them _alive._ ” Lunalei’s usual overly expressive voice is now unsettlingly stoic. Rowen struggles not to cower under the her gaze. A feeling of anxiety settles deep in her stomach, something tells her that this isn't just another mission.

Rowen’s eyes are comically wide, her pupils darting around the room as she struggles to conjure a response. “A-a relic? Like a - like a _real-life_ relic? Like-”

“Yes, Rowen. A _real_ relic.” The Queen cuts her off, not unkindly. She covers her mouth to hide the way her lips turn up at the edges, a gentle smile making its way onto her face. It frustrates her sometimes, having such a soft spot for this child.

Rowen’s gaze falls to the ground for a second before snapping back up to Lunalei, her eyes glassy. “But - but, h-h-how do you expect me to do it? M-my magic is so weak and I-” The Queen winces at the return of Rowen’s childhood habit, her stutter only makes itself known when she's under stress. Lunalei holds up a single hand and Rowen immediately stops rambling and averts her gaze back to the ground with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The Queen's eyes soften. _Perhaps this child is too young to complete such a daunting task._

“I’m 21 years old…” Rowen says quietly and the Queen realizes that she had said her thoughts out loud.

“Rowen,” the Queen hesitates and steps off of her throne and once again shrinks back to the size of a human (it’s hard to comfort someone when you’re nearly fifty feet taller than them.) When she stands just a foot in front of Rowen, she continues. “Do you know why I was so quick to take you in as my own?”

Rowen hangs her head and lets out an exasperated sigh as she recites the sentence that Lunalei has told her time and time again, “because you saw my potential.”

“No,” Lunalei says sternly, and Rowen’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “The _real_ reason I took you in,” she leans forward, as if she were sharing some middle school gossip, “is because you were just _so darn cute._ ” she says as she pinches Rowens cheeks. The Queen beams at the way the girl blushes and laughs, all of her worries dissipating right before her eyes.

As her laughter dies down, the Queen continues. “But really, Rowen. I truly did see your potential. I saw a child willing to fight, perhaps not with magic, but with her sheer force of will alone.” Lunalei’s four eyes meet Rowen’s three, heavy with unshed tears. The Queen reaches down to hold Rowen’s webbed hands in hers. “I would not present to you a mission that I did not believe you could accomplish. This quest will be like nothing you've ever done before, but I believe in you. I know you can do it, _my child._ ” A huge grin spreads across Rowen’s face, showcasing her shark-like teeth. She launches herself onto Lunalei, hands wrapping around her torso and smearing tears and snot on her clothes. Of course, the Queen doesn’t mind. She never minds when it’s Rowen.

They break apart and Lunalei claps her hands together as she turns to walk back and sit on her throne. “Now!” she says with a grin. The Queen gives no warning before yelling, **”LUMIE!”**

Rowen doesn't even flinch, she's grown accustomed to the Queen’s frequent screaming.

“Rowen!” Lunalei says with her eyes closed and smile wide, face practically the definition of excitement. “You have met Lumiere, yes?”

Rowen is confused for only a second before she turns around to see a boy standing by the door of the room holding a thin folder. He’s easily a foot taller than her and his skin is yellow. She's close enough to see the freckles dusting his cheeks, which glow a brighter yellow. His orange hair curls upwards in the front and is shaved on the sides, it looked almost like fire… _'wait oh my god is that actually fire?'_

Rowen subtly admires the boy’s looks for a few moments before meeting his eyes. Before she can stop herself, she flinches backwards slightly out of discomfort and... mild terror. His eyes are completely white, almost glowing, with a constant stream of smoke radiating from them. She's seen the boy before, due to both of their close relationships with Lunalei. The thing is though, she had never had the opportunity to observe him this closely. Something about him was… _unsettling._

Rowen composes herself and turns back to Lunalei mumbling a noncommittal “...sort of?” 

The Queen seems to accept her answer because she continues. “Good! He will acquaint you with the facts of the case, along with everything that is known about the criminal as he guides you back to your quarters.” She seems almost too giddy, her smile suspiciously wide.

Rowen and the Queen exchange hearty goodbyes and Rowen hesitantly joins Lumiere at the door. Lunalei yells a flamboyant farewell to Lumiere, and Rowen looks up at him to watch as he gives the Queen a single nod of acknowledgement in return. He holds the door open for Rowen and closes it behind him. He moves his hand from behind his back and motions a sort of _‘after you’_ gesture, letting her walk slightly ahead of him while he still remains by her side.

The two start down the corridors of the palace, Rowen gliding her fingers along the wall as she walks. She keeps her eyes glued to the marble floor as Lumiere looks straight ahead.

After nearly a minute of what Rowen would consider to be unbearably awkward silence, the boy finally speaks. “Not much is known of the criminal.” For a moment, Rowen is shocked by smoothness of his voice, sounding almost feminine. “But I know that they are powerful, capable of magic you cannot imagine. Their magic is plant-based...” he seems to ponder something for a moment, before continuing.

“Lunal - _the Queen_ briefly mentioned your powers. Remind me what they are.” He says as he turns his head to look down at Rowen for the first time, who pretends not to be terrified of his gaze.

“Oh! I - uh,” _nice. Very articulate, Rowen._ “I have water manipulation abilities, and - uh, hea-healing abilities.” She demonstrates this by raising her hand as a bright blue color begins to emit from her palm. She feels a deep pull at her chest as she wills the magic to weave around her fingers. “But I - uh, I’m not very good at controlling it…” she says as she looks down in shame, closing her hand around the astral glow, which flickers once - twice - before fading out entirely inside of her clenched fist. She looks back up at Lumiere, who is still peering down at her. (Actually, she isn’t really sure if he's looking at her? It's hard to tell with his eyes being completely blank. _Seriously, how does he see with no pupils?)_

The boy waves his hand dismissively and returns his gaze to the hallway in front of them. “Don’t worry about that, water abilities would not aid you in a fight with a plant elemental, anyway.” Rowen could tell he was trying to be reassuring, but he wasn’t very good at it. Unsure what to say next, she simply returns to looking down at her feet as she walks.

“The Queen has told me that you are very capable with a sword,” Rowen’s head snaps back up to look at him, a slight blush dusting her cheeks at the thought of Lunalei praising her abilities when she isn’t around. “Use that to your advantage.” _Finally, some useful advice._

They soon reach the entrance to Rowen’s room, a large lilac colored door with silver engravings that resemble ocean waves. They both stop and Rowen turns so that her back leans against the door. Lumiere is stands directly in front of her, looking down at her with a blank expression.

“I have briefly looked at your records,” he starts, before exasperatedly adding, “by the Queen’s request,” upon seeing Rowen’s unnerved expression. “It is impressive, really, how you have never failed a task given to you by the Queen in your fifteen years of serving her.” Rowen finds herself too wary of his condescending tone of voice to acknowledge the fact that he is complimenting her.

“But,” he starts, bending down slightly to meet Rowen's eyes, “do not use that simple fact as a reason to believe that you cannot fail this one.” He says, eyes narrowing. Rowen shrinks under his gaze.

He stands back to his full height, keeping eye contact with the uncomfortable girl standing below him. “You can.” Rowen flinches. “And it is very likely that you will.”

Rowen stands frozen in place as Lumiere pulls a folder from behind his back and holds it in front of her. “In this file, is everything that is known about the case.” Rowen’s eyebrows furrow, taking note of how thin the folder is. She hesitantly reaches for it, and jumps when Lumiere quickly pulls it from her reach, holding it high above her head.

“You know,” he says, tapping his chin with his index finger in an overdramatic display of pensiveness. “I’m sure there’s still time to deny the Queen’s offer, surely she would be able to find someone just as capable of completing the mission.” He says condescendingly, a slight smirk turning his lips up at the edges. It’s the first time he's shown any kind of emotion in front of Rowen. She doesn’t like it.

“N-no! I’m going to do it!” she says, her face scrunching up in frustration in a way that probably looked more adorable than intimidating.

Lumiere just stands there for a second, an odd look of something resembling intrigue on his face. “Very well,” he says, shrugging and lowering the folder back down for Rowen to grab, which she quickly does.

He clasps his hands behind his back and squares his shoulders in a posture that screams diplomacy. It is during moments like this that she is reminded of his status. Reminded that she is speaking to royalty, even if he seems more like a cocky teenager.

“I wish you luck on your endeavors,” he says stoically as he swiftly turns to leave. He takes a single step down the hallway, away from Rowen, and then stops and looks over his shoulder. His expression portrays something close to resentment, with a hint of… _pity?_

“You’ll certainly need it.” He says as he walks away, leaving Rowen uncomfortable and alone.

As she watches his form disappear around a corner, she lets out a long breath and slumps against her door, feeling physically and emotionally drained from the anxiety-inducing interaction she just had. After she regains her composure, she opens the door to her room and trudges in, locking it behind her.

The Queen’s throne room was certainly breathtaking, but Rowen would never choose it over her own. Being so close to the Queen, she was pretty much able to get anything she wanted. _(Well, as long as she continued to do the Queen’s dirty work. Though, Rowen considered this a small price to pay, especially since she more often than not enjoyed the missions given to her.)_ Because of this, Rowen’s room was one of the largest and most extravagant in the castle. Cream colored columns line the walls of the suite. Two large rectangular windows on the back wall let a near blinding amount of sunlight into the room. Rowen’s bed lies in between the two windows, obscured by drapes of various shades of blue and decorated with long strings of crystals and pearls. It was a suite fit only for the highest class of nobles, though not quite meeting royal status.

Perhaps, if Rowen can complete the task given to her by the Queen, that would change.

Rowen’s heels make a satisfying _’click’_ sound as they meet the marble floor with every step she takes towards the desk on the other side of the room. She ungracefully plops down on the desk chair and lets out a long sigh. She drops the case file onto her desk and proceeds to glare at it as if it had personally affronted her. As excited as she wants to be about this mission, she's terrified. She winces as she remembers how the simple mention of the case had brought such immense discomfort to the Queen. She cannot forget the way she looked in that moment, the Queen was desperate, helpless. Frankly, it was _horrifying._

After ten minutes of sitting in silence and staring at the ceiling, Rowen decides that she can no longer delay the inevitable. She opens the folder.

There are three pieces of paper inside, all of them stained and worn to the point where they just barely balance on the cusp of legibility. The first sheet looks to have been ripped out of a book, crumbled a thousand times over, and shat on. The page has a hastily drawn picture of a… ring? The relic, Rowen figures. She analyzes the sketch closely, taking note of every detail. The ring has a thin band of gold, and an emerald gemstone with four facets. Under the picture is a short paragraph in… some language Rowen couldn't read. She makes a mental note to get it translated into English or French later.

The girl gingerly places the sheet to the side and moves on to examine the next one. She is able to easily identify the second paper as a map of Rhegelia, The City of the Two Queens. The sketch includes every establishment in the city, along with the surrounding area. Three locations on the map are circled in deep red ink: Soliela’s palace, the Manakiyan Forest, and a small building in the middle of the city. Rowen just stares at the map with a dumbfounded expression, unsure of how this map is supposed to help her with the mission. She decides to just move the paper to the other side of the desk to decipher later.

As Rowen shifts her attention to the third sheet of paper, her eyes widen. The words ** _’WANTED HUMAN’_** are scrawled in bold letters at the top, along with ** _'EXTREMELY DANGEROUS'_** at the bottom. She tries not to pay attention to the reddish brown stain on the corner of the paper and the disgustingly metallic smell emitting from it. In the middle of the paper is a picture that seemed to be taken at least a century ago. The image features a vaguely humanoid figure with their back turned, and their head angled so that half of their face is visible under the hood they were wearing. They have short, sort of magenta-colored hair that curls upwards in the front. The human’s skin was relatively dark, and they wore attire in an arrangement of green hues. Rowen feels discomfort squirm deep in her stomach when she looks closer at their face. Their eyebrows are pulled tightly together and their eyes are narrowed in disgust, almost rage. Their eyelashes looked to be replaced by dark green leaves (Rowen didn’t think that was normal for humans, but then again, she didn't really know much about them.) She looks closer at the person’s eye and lets out a soft gasp. The iris is ovular and light yellow, the pupil a captivating gold. Around it are triangles pointing away from the iris, resembling the way a child might draw the rays of a sun. An obvious pact with Soliela.

An unwarranted pang of jealousy tugs at Rowen’s chest. Everyone knows that pacts present themselves differently in each person’s eyes, and it was no secret that some manifested in prettier ways than others. Rowen was not ashamed of the way her pact looked, she just felt like it was very... _plain_. Her pact with Lunalei is shown only in her third eye in the way the iris is shaped like a crescent moon. It’s fairly subtle, quaint. Rowen is certainly proud of her pact, and loves to show it off as much as she can, but she sometimes finds herself disheartened when she sees more beautiful ones.

She is startled to see such a pact in the eyes of this... _criminal_. Rowen hadn’t expected them to have a pact at all. Pacts act as a spiritual link between the citizen and their chosen Queen. Upon making a pact, the Queen intertwines the citizen’s spirit with her own. With focus, the Queens are able to connect their mind to any one of their subjects if it were ever necessary. Since the criminal has a pact, Soliela should be able to connect to them to determine their identity, or at the very least, their location. So, since the Queen hasn’t already done so, one of two things must be true:

1.) She is working with the criminal and choosing not to disclose their information.

2.) The human’s magic is strong enough to overpower the Queen’s abilities.

Both possible outcomes are… unsettling, to say the least. The latter teetering on the edge of _utterly terrifying._

Rowen tears her eyes away from the paper in front of her and leans back in her chair, her head hanging uncomfortably off the back. Along with this plethora of new information regarding her mission, came an overwhelming wave of anxiety. Her confidence begins to waver, doubt seeping into every nook and pore in her body. She groans loudly and leans forward, letting her elbows rest on the desk as she presses the heels of her palms against her eyes in frustration. Letting another groan leave her mouth, she lazily stands up from her desk and grabs the papers. She needs to think of a game plan. What is she going to do? _Oh god,_ what is she going to _do?_

Rowen looks down at sheets of paper and begins to desperately search for something, _anything_ to help her with the mission. She frantically flips the papers over, she turns them every which way to look at the script from all angles, she even analyzes the text for some kind of secret code, she _has_ to find _something_. She halts her frenzied search for answers as she spots writing on the back side of the wanted poster. The script is light, barely visible on the worn paper. Rowen squints her eyes and leans closer to the page in an attempt to read the writing.

23 February 413IV

Rowen’s eyebrows furrow. It’s a date. It’s a date from a year that happened _119 years ago._

Despite being seventy-five percent human, Rowen doesn’t really know much about the species. One thing she’s pretty sure about though, is that they _don’t live for 119 years._ The Queen probably can’t find the criminal because they’re _literally dead_. And if they somehow are not, they certainly don’t look the same as they did _more than a century ago_.

Now, don't get her wrong, Rowen would never question the Queen’s objectives, and she feels honored to have been chosen for a quest as important as this one, she just fears the consequences that would inevitably be thrust upon her if she were to return to the castle empty handed.

With great internal conflict, Rowen ultimately decides on a plan of action. She plans to search the areas that are circled on the map of Rhegelia, hoping that the red ink symbolizes the places where the thief has been seen. If that plan doesn’t work… well, Rowen doesn’t really know what she’ll do.

Taking a long breath out in a fruitless attempt to calm her nerves, Rowen begins to prepare for her quest. There is not much she needs that she cannot return to her suite and retrieve. The one thing she must bring is her sword. Rowen’s choice of weapon never deviates from the magic infused blade personally granted to her by the Queen. The weapon, in its resting state, is merely a short obsidian handle, but when Rowen activates her powers, a magnificent blade of crystalized ice extends from the hilt. Lunalei had made it specifically for her in an attempt to help her learn how to better channel her abilities. Rowen smiles at the memory, the expression on the Queen’s face, looking as if she was confused by her own generous deed. She stumbled over her words and her eyes darted around the room, never quite meeting Rowens. It was a foreign look on the Queen, she seemed embarrassed, unsure. Lunalei had always been the orderly, stoic, level-headed leader. Soliela was the more sentimental one, more driven by emotions. Soliela always did what was right. Lunalei always did what was necessary.

Seeing this new, affectionate, almost vulnerable side of the Queen, was nothing short of enthralling. Rowen’s view of the Queen changed that day. Suddenly, she was less of a resigned and apathetic monarch, and more of a _person._

Rowen shakes her head, willing herself to return to reality and out of her reminiscences. With a sigh, she reaches behind her and fastens the handle of her sword to the back of her neck so that it is completely hidden by thick navy blue hair and away from any prying eyes. She considers changing into her usual mission attire, which consists of a _very_ suspicious black jumpsuit, but she wisely decides against it. She needs to look casual, unintimidating, she needs to look like a _normal_ person. Perhaps she could lure the criminal into attacking _her_ , and then **BAM!** She’s got them just where she wants them!

Rowen freezes.

_And then what?_

The criminal ends her life then and there? They take everything she has and abandon her in the dirt? They escape, leaving her to return to the Queen empty handed? What if they take her? _Oh God, what if she gets kidnapped?_

As her thoughts continued to spiral into more preposterous possible outcomes, Rowen distantly realizes that her breathing is picking up speed. She feels as if she's watching herself from an entirely different plane of existence as she sinks to the ground, knees pulled up to her chest and forehead pressed against the cold marble floor. One of her hands pulls her hair as the other claws at the gills on the side of her neck _(a bad habit that she just can’t seem to get rid of.)_ Rowen squeezes her eyes shut upon feeling the all-too-familiar sensation of hot tears threatening to fall.

_It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay everything is **f i n e.**_

Rowen shakily attempts to control her breathing while repeating her internal mantra of admittedly useless reassurances. With time, the panic fades to a persistent, yet manageable whisper. She’s learned that it never really goes away, it just becomes more tolerable.

When she’s sure her legs won't immediately collapse, she stands up. Panicking isn't going to help her complete the mission. She needs a _real_ plan. Perhaps she could find a way to sedate the thief? That would certainly be easier than fighting a human with an unfathomable amount of power, a human that could probably snap her spine in half without lifting a finger.

_Yeah, a sedative, she’ll do that._

Rowen, with a newfound bout of confidence, squares her shoulders and walks to the door of her room, knowing exactly where she needs to go.

* * *

As she steps out through the entrance of the palace and into the outside world, Rowen smiles, relishing in the feeling of fresh air in her lungs. It’s been so long since she's had a quest, since she’s had a reason to leave the castle. She’s forgotten how the sun feels on her skin, how the wind softly combs through her hair. It’s… _nice._

Rowen shakes her head. Now is not the time for these feelings.

_She’s got a date with an old friend._


	3. Writings on the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowen has a meeting with some old friends.
> 
> (this chapter is very dialogue heavy but it’s still important to the plot i promise)
> 
> ((Also there is a very very VERY VERY vague reference to rape. like.... it's barely there... but still... stay safe friends!!!)

Rowen looks down at the ground, at where she has ceased in her venture to the city just beyond the tips of her toes, to watch her feet as she steps - for the first time in nearly a year - outside of Lunalei’s territory, and into Rhegelia. She just barely suppresses the shudder threatening to crawl up her spine as she passes the self-perceived barrier between the safety of the Queen’s domain and the uncertainty of the outside world.

The sight in front of her is nothing short of mesmerizing. Rhegelia is a grand and populous city built between Lunalei and Soliela’s palaces - hence its nickname, _The City of the Two Queens._ The entire city is built four stories high and every floor is accessible by wooden walkways along the sides of the buildings. Every constructure is connected, save for the occasional few that are separated by alleys used to navigate through the different stretches of the metropolis.  
The collective first floor of the city consists of shops for simple necessities. This is where the markets, bakeries, delis, and grocery stores are. The second floor is dedicated to accommodating the indulgences of the people. Personal businesses where citizens can eat and shop for their own enjoyment are located here. The third story of the city is dedicated to magic and other abnormal practices. Here, citizens can buy items to aid their magic or to make potions and other items with magical elements. There are also places where people can practice controlling and strengthening their abilities. The fourth floor consists of personal residences, this is where many nobles and wealthy shop owners live, if not inside of their store. Wooden stands are posted intermittently along the sides of the pavement between stores and posters litter the walls of the buildings. Colorful lights and drapes decorate the stairs and walkways that give access to all four floors of the metropolis.

Rowen’s unease shifts into excitement at the magnificent sight before her. She is distantly familiar with the layout of the city, and the location of her exact destination, but with the gargantuan size of the metropolis, she figures it would take too much time for her to walk there. Luckily, Rowen knows an easy solution to her dilemma, and that solution lies in a neon orange holographic screen projected from the ground just to her right

Her hand hovers above the screen for a second before she places the pad of her finger on a small circle next to the word, _Adelaide’s_. Under her finger, a confirmation message pops up, to which she taps the reply to confirm that, _’yes, this is the location I wish to achieve’_. After she presses the button, the world around her begins to shift and blur, and the ground below her fades away. Everything is enveloped in a white light, and the ground gives away entirely, leaving Rowen to fall through - though just for a second, before her feet suddenly find purchase on wooden flooring. Rowen is left stumbling - and slightly nauseous - on the third floor of the city, miles away from where she was a mere five seconds ago.

As she regains her bearings and swallows the bile threatening to expel itself from her throat, Rowen makes a mental note to just _walk_ to her destination next time because, while using the teleportation devices is effective, it has never been kind to her stomach.

A golden glint in Rowen’s peripheral captures her attention, and she finally turns to see the destination she was warped into standing just outside of. The building in front of her is painted black and has dark purple drapes with crystals sewn into the fabric over the windows. Rowen lifts her gaze to the sign and reads,

**Adelaide’s**

Nausea forgotten, Rowen runs towards the entrance. She reaches the small shop and throws the door open with all of her strength, letting out a squeal of excitement in the process. The door violently slams into the adjacent wall with a loud _THUD!_ and Rowen would have been worried about the crystal door knob shattering if she hadn't already known that the owner put an unbreaking spell on it because of all of the times Rowen did the exact same thing she did just now.

Said shop owner doesn't even flinch at the obnoxiously loud intrusion, obviously painfully familiar with the noise. They sit at a desk littered with crumpled papers and colorful stains that seep into the wood - likely the result of potions that hadn’t went quite as planned. They sit carelessly with their feet on their desk. They don't look up from their book - _which, upon glancing at the cover, Rowen makes a mental note to scold them for reading such a thing in public_ \- as they monotonously say, “Hello, welcome to Adelaide’s. Wha-”

“CELESTE!” Rowen shrieks.

At this, the shop owner looks up and has barely enough time to brace themself before Rowen barrels into them, her short arms wrapping around their torso and squeezing tightly.

Having recovered from her initial surprise, the shop owner, Celeste Adelaide, breaks into a sharp-toothed grin and snakes one arm around Rowen’s waist, and sets the other on top of her head.

“Nadine!” Celeste calls heartily, “we have a visitor~!”

As if on cue, a clawed hand slithers between the black faux diamond encrusted curtains and flicks them aside dramatically, the fabric floating in the air briefly from the force at which they were thrown. A tall woman saunters out from where she had been standing behind the curtains, likely just waiting for Celeste to call her name so she could make a grand entrance. “Well, would you look at what the cat dragged in!” She says exuberantly.

At this statement, Celeste’s smile drops and she groans loudly, hands unattaching from the girl still clinging to her waist to rest on her hips. “That wasn’t funny the first time and it certainly isn’t funny now,” she says boredly, though the ends of her mouth remained upturned, and the fondness remains in her voice.

The woman - Nadine just barks out a laugh as she waltzes up to her feline-featured fiancé (and consequently, the girl attached,) and slips her hands under Rowen’s armpits, and lifts the girl from the ground the way one would hold a baby.

“Wow!” Nadine exclaims, turning Rowen every which way, looking her over from every angle. Celeste giggles in the background while Rowen attempts to seem indignant, but ultimately fails as she too begins to laugh.

“Look at you! How long’s it been? A year? What ever happened to ‘I’ll visit every month’?”

Rowen’s gleeful giggles turn into guilty chuckles as her hand come to the back of her neck, awkwardly fiddling with the hilt of her sword still strapped there. 

“I’ve been… busy?” she replies nervously.

“Well I know _that’s_ not true” Nadine says as she finally sets Rowen back down onto the floor so she can effectively plant her hands on her hips.

Before Rowen can conjure a response, Celeste walks up to her and plucks the hilt of her sword out from behind her hair and scoldingly says, “No weapons are allowed in the store except for Nadine’s brass knuckles.”

“Maybe if you were to visit more often you would remember that _you_ are the reason for that rule.” Nadine says, the ghost of a laugh turning her lips upwards at the atrociously hilarious memory of the origin of the mentioned rule.

Rowen chuckles too at the memory as she replies, “well I’m here now,” her tone of voice making the statement sound more like a question.

To this, Nadine just says, “yeah, yeah, whatever,” as she ruffles the top of Rowen’s head, smirking at the girls loud protests.

“Well, we’re certainly happy to have you,” Celeste says warmly from where she had moved to once again sit behind the front desk, “but I have a feeling that you didn’t come just to visit, hm?”

Rowen scuffs her feet against the dark wooden flooring as she nods somewhat guiltily and walks towards the front desk where her friend sits cryptically with her chin perched upon her interlaced fingers.

At Rowen’s confirmation, Celeste’s warm smile turns wicked, and she jumps up from her chair to make her way towards her shelves upon shelves of potions, poisons, and other miscellaneous and questionably legal items. “So what is it you need?” she starts, “I have anything you need right here,” she gestures to the shelf of pre-made potions, “or, if not, I can make something special just for you, no additional cost!” she rambles excitedly, already rummaging through her array of different spices and oddly hued liquids.

“Actually,” Rowen starts shyly, “I just need… a sedative.”

A loud crash is heard as Celeste drops the vile of neon yellow liquid she had previously been examining, splashing its contents onto the floor. She whips her head to face Rowen, her wide eyes searching the girls face for any hint of humor, yet only to see nervousness. Soon, her loud laughter is echoing off the walls of the shop, Nadine’s too.

“You-” she starts, still laughing exuberantly, “you came to _me_...” another bark of laughter interupts her speech, “for a _sedative?_ ” she finishes, face incredulous.

“Where else do you expect me to go?” Rowen replies defensively, somewhat offended by the girls’ response to her seemingly simple request.

“Literally _anywhere else?_ ” Nadine replies, still laughing.

“ _Hey!_ I could just leave, you know!” Rowen says, turning to pout and point a finger at Nadine, who only shakes her head.

“No,” Celeste starts, smiling widely, “I’m delighted that you have come to me with such a…” she snorts “ _...humble_ request.” Her shoulders shake with poorly concealed laughter. “It’s just that… It is not often that I, - not to brag - the most renowned alchemist in Rhegelia, receive a request so… so… elementary!” She exclaims as she searches through her collection of potions, no doubt looking to see if she even _has_ a sedative.

As it turns out, she does not.

So, she begins to gather the items needed to make one. As Celeste scurries around the shop, mumbling to herself all the while, Nadine decides to finally ask _why_ she needs a sedative.

“ _Well,_ ” she starts “Notre Reine - er - Ma Reine, _sorry Nad,_ called me in for a mission this morning,” Nadine, promptly excusing Rowen’s slip up, audibly gasps in excitement, and Celeste ceases in her mumbling to listen to the girls story as she works to create the potion. “-and _let me tell you,_ this one’s gonna be a _doozy._ ”

Nadine walks up behind Rowen and begins to play with her hair as if she were a hairdresser, “Tell me about it _dah-ling_ ” she drawls.

After a brief interruption of giggles, Rowen continues, “So, I’m supposed to find this human who - keep in mind, I have virtually _no_ information on - and bring them to Ma Reine because they supposedly stole something from her - a _relic_ , actually. She says it’s _super_ important and the pep talk she gave me before the mission was a lot more intense than usual, so I’m guessing it’s kind of a big deal.” She finishes, somewhat lamely.

Celeste and Nadine are silent, both looking at Rowen with wide eyes and slack jaws. “You-” Celests starts, only to cut herself off and resort back to an incredulous stare

Nadine picks up where she left off, “You have to face someone… who has the power of a _relic_?” The last word comes out as no more than a whisper as if she were afraid the wielder was hiding within the walls and could hear her.

“W-well It’s not like I’m going to be fighting them!” Rowen rushes to explain, hands waving frantically, “I won’t even have to overpower them, just outsmart them, really.”

“That’s… good to hear.” Celeste says with a breathy chuckle, yet with an unmistakable genuineness. Nadine just nods aridly, somewhat skeptically.

“That’s why I need the sedative,” (At the reminder of the task at hand, Celeste returns to mixing the ingredients she had gathered into a small vial, though noticeably slower than before.) “-see, I was given this map - it’s not much, I know, but it’s all I’ve got,” she continues to explain as she digs in her dress pocket to retrieve the worn piece of paper, “and I’m _guessing_ that these red circles symbolize the places that the criminal has been seen, because, I mean, what else could they mean, right?” 

Nadine, brows furrowed, leans over Rowen’s shoulder to look at the map as she points at the circles and explains their significance.

“This big building on one end of the city is in the exact position of Soliela’s palace, and then this huge mass just outside of the city is the Manakiyan forest, so I’m guessing that maybe they live there? I don’t know. Oh, and this circle in the middle of the city is supposed to be a bar. I’ll probably look there first. Best case scenario; all I have to do is slip the sedativ-“

“W-wait, _wait_ , woah woah _woah_.” Celeste interrupts loudly, hands abandoning where she had just finished making the sedative and flying to exasperatedly massage her temples, “ _That’s_ your plan?”

Rowen, genuinely confused, ( _‘oh, bless her heart,’_ Celeste thinks,) just nods slowly, “...Yes?”

“Rowen-“ Celeste starts before sighing loudly and pinching the bridge of her nose. She looks up to make eye contact with Nadine, who remains standing stock still behind Rowen, a grimace twisting her features. They seem to share the same thought, _‘Oh god, we’re really going to have to explain this to her.’_

“Rowen,” Celeste starts _again_ , “your plan… is to _sedate_ someone… in a _b a r_... by _drugging their drink?_ ”

Rowen just stares at her blankly and slowly nods once again.

Celeste closes her eyes and breathes in slowly, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. “That is… quite possibly… the _worst_ idea… I have ever heard… in my _life_.”

At Rowen’s immediate protests, she simply holds up a hand, and the girl goes silent, though not without an undeniably adorable pout marring her features.

“-And let me tell you why,” Celeste resumes calmly, “because I can think of a million things that can, _and inevitably will,_ go wrong.”

Celeste holds up a single finger, “first of all, if someone sees you slipping a sedative in someone’s drink, the first thing they’re going to think is _not_ going to be that you are doing a service to the Queen.”

Finally, _finally_ , realization begins to set in, as Rowen’s eyes widen and mouth opens in a silent _’oh’_.

“While I am more than aware that you would never, _ever_ , do something so vile, a stranger would not know you well enough to jump to that conclusion. I agree with you that your best bet is with a sedative, but I must advise you to use it _literally_ anywhere else.” Celeste finishes with a smile that resembles more of a grimace.

“ _Ugh,_ you’re right,” Rowen groans, now disheartened at the fact that her only plan has been foiled. She dramatically slumps forward onto the front desk and moans, “what am I going to _do,_ Cel?”

Nadine chuckles and moves forward to place a comforting hand on Rowen’s back, “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. You always do.” She says warmly, satisfied with her encouragement when Rowen moves her face out of the confines of her hair to give her a warm smile.

“Stop flirting you two,” Celeste calls from where she had walked to the other side of the room to finalize and seal the sedative. She then returns to them and proudly presents a small vial of neon pink, bubbling liquid. 

Rowen gasps and starts hopping from foot to foot excitedly as she begins to dig through her pockets for money. Noticing this, Celeste firmly grasps the girls wrists and pries them out of her pockets, preventing her from retrieving any kind of payment.

“ _Ah, ah, ah,_ ” she sings as she waggles her finger in front of Rowen’s face, “no charge.”

At the girls quick protests she just presses the vial into the girls hands and closes her fingers around it. “Don’t even worry about it. It’s _just_ a sedative.” She says with a kind smile.

Rowen’s smile lights up the whole shop as she throws herself onto the two women, effectively facilitating a group hug.

“Plus,” Nadine starts, “you can use this as an incentive to actually _visit;_ we’ll give you free stuff.”

Rowen laughs as she detaches herself from the couple and begins to make her way back towards the entrance of the shop, Celeste and Nadine following behind her. When she reaches the door, she turns around to face them once again, and a lovely warmth spreads throughout her body upon seeing the soft smiles gracing their features.

“Be safe, Rowen,” Nadine says as she endearingly places a hand on the top of her head.

“You’ll do great,” Celeste says with such pride in her voice that Rowen nearly started bawling right then and there.

“I’ll visit, I promise,” is all she can say without bursting into tears as she walks out the door, the couple bidding her goodbye with large smiles and exuberant waves, in the way any parents would as their child is sent off to their first day of school.

Rowen can’t help but feel as if she has taken them for granted.

* * *

Not long passes before the door of of Adelaide’s is once again passed through by someone with a mission.

The shop is empty save for the two tenants and the newcomer. Celeste is in what seems like her default position nowadays, with her feet propped up on her desk and fingers interlaced behind her head. Nadine is diligently combing through the shelves of products, rearranging the glasses and vials so that their labels face outwards. She notices the newcomer first.

 _”Oh!”_ she yelps, and nearly drops the vial she had been fiddling with in her haste to dip into a respectful bow in front of them. Celeste, having looked up upon hearing her fiancé’s startled exclamation, let out a similar noise as she too scrambles to kneel before them.

“Please,” the patron says, raising their hands in a placating manner, “there is no need for such formalities.”

At this, the couple slowly exchange a confused glance, and hesitantly return to standing.

“So, uh” Celeste starts lamely, wearily regarding the client still standing at the front of the shop, “what is it that you need?”

Every second the customer doesn’t answer, is another second that Nadine refrains from breathing. _God,_ she hopes they didn’t come just to close down their shop. See, she knows that not all of their services may be legal, but she didn’t think that they’d ever get _caught_. Looking at the patron, she does not sense any malicious intentions, though they do hold an enigmatic aura to them. Lost in thought, Nadine almost jumps when they finally answer.

“I am looking for the descendent of Alaric Gianado”

_‘Oh, so that’s why they’re here’_

For reasons completely unknown to Celeste, this statement is enough to make Nadine fall to her knees at the feet of the patron, fingers interlacing together as she bows her head low enough to where her forehead nearly touches the floor, and begin outright _sobbing_ , and to Celeste’s confused horror, pleading for _more time._

Celeste admittedly has no idea what’s going on, no idea of the significance of the person behind the name given by the customer, all she knows is that her fiancé is upset, and that the customer made it happen. She too falls to the floor beside Nadine and places one hand on her back, and the other on her cheek in an attempt to coax her head up. Her comforting touches don’t even seem to be registered by the other woman, the latter in too much of a panic to notice what’s going on around her. Status be damned, Celeste looks back up at the patron to fix them with the coldest glare this world has ever fucking _seen,_ but stops short when she notices their expression. They’re already kneeling in front of Nadine with a guilty and panicked look on their face, it’s the most emotion she has ever seen from them.

“Oh- oh, no _that’s_ not why I’m here.” They say frantically, eyes wide and apologetic.

This is what finally brings Nadine out of her own mind. She looks up slowly to meet their eyes, and whispered a desperate, “really?”

“Yes,” they start, then they not-so-subtly look down to read her name tag, “Nadine. In fact,” their lips curl up into a comforting smile as they place a hand on her shoulder, “I will protect you.”

Nadine just nods in reply, at this point too drained to react in any other way, as her eyes fall back to the floor and Celeste wipes the tears from her face.

“The _real_ reason I have come, is to request that you aid in the alleviation of my worries regarding the inevitable eventualities of my future by the use of your power - the power you share with your predecessor.” The customer explains in a way that only a diligently trained diplomat could.

Nadine jumps up suddenly, previous emotional breakdown completely forgotten, “Yes! Okay! Yes, I can totally do that!” she says loudly, causing both Celeste and the patron to flinch back in alarm.

“I… I can come back any time,” the customer says as they too get up off the floor.

“No need! Come on back!” Nadine calls, motioning for them to join her in sitting at a small table towards the back of the store. Celeste decides not to follow, precognition sessions can be personal, borderline _intimate_ , and as much as she loves invading other people’s privacy, this seems like a special case.

“My precognitions, unlike my predecessor, are dominantly auditory, with few accompanying visuals,” she begins to explain as the customer sits across from her. “They’re vague, and often out of order.” The patron nods in interest.

“For this to work most effectively, I will need your full name,” she says.

...and is confused when they do not readily answer.

“My… birth name? Or… what I go by… now?” they ask, and Nadine wouldn’t have been able to hear the expertly concealed fear of disapproval in their voice if she hadn’t sensed it within her own so many times before. Her eyes widen minutely as she understands the implications behind their words.

“The name you most closely identify with,” she replies in a way that she hopes conveys more than sympathy, she wants - _needs_ \- them to know that she _understands_.

They give her a small smile, and their eyes - despite being completely white - somehow soften as they reply,

_”Lumiere Hanalei Kekoa”_

“Thank you, Lumiere, I am going to place my hands on your temples, is that alright?”

“Yes,” he responds, leaning forward slightly so she can comfortably do so while resting her elbows on the table.

“Alright, close your eyes,” she commands lightly, placing two of her fingers on each of his temples, “you will hear and see everything I do. Are you ready?” She asks.

“Yes.” He replies.

...

Suddenly, there is silence.

Lumiere had never thought about it before, but you know how, no matter where you are, there is noise? How, as if the very act of being produces sound, there is always something to be heard?

For the first time ever, for Lumiere, there is complete and utter silence.

But only for a second, because then, there are whispers, and he _knows_ that there is no one else there with them, yet he still shudders at the phantom sensations of breaths tickling his ears. They’re unintelligible, at first. Only distant murmurs, fractions of sentences. One voice will be in control for one second, and then another will speak over it. It sounds as if a hundred people were fighting for his attention, pleading to be heard.

One voice - a woman’s - wins the fight for dominance.

**_There is one who lives long..._ **

-but only for a second-

**_...but never grows old,_ **

-because soon, another voice- a child’s voice - takes over.

**_another whose heart warms for those gone cold._ **

-then another voice speaks over them, a woman who stretches her vowels in a way that almost morphs her speech into song-

**_It is by fate that their paths will together intertwine,_ **

-a man continues the prophecy when her voice begins to fade-

**_it is then, and only then, that the stars will align._ **

-all of the previous voices begin to say the words together-

**_Together they declare that to the future, they shan’t yield,_ **

-a cryptic chorus of voices unknown-

**_so they fight against a fate that has long since been sealed._ **

-and then a voice, more than familiar, begins to rise above the others-

**_The two will learn that their paths were best left uncrossed,_ **

-he distantly realizes the fact that it had been present the whole time-

**_because in the end, it is what matters most, that is ultimately lost._ **

-it was his own.

Suddenly, he jerks away from the hands on his temples, jumping up with enough force to knock over the chair he had been sitting on. He stumbles backward, breathing heavily, into the shelf of potions, resulting in a few dropping onto the ground and shattering. He opens his eyes and frantically wipes his face when he notices his vision is blurred with tears.

Nadine jumps up just as quickly, somewhat disoriented by how suddenly the prince broke their connection. She had also awoken with tears cascading down her face, as she is granted the anguish of those who deliver the prophecies, along with whomever she shares her gift.

As she looks up, ready to apologize for the burden she figures she has inevitably bestowed onto Lumiere to bear alone, she sees that he is still braced against the shelf, clutching the wood tightly enough to where his knuckles turn white. As if he feels Nadine’s gaze, his head snaps up to meet her eyes. He frantically wipes his face and begins to quickly make his way to the front door.

“Th-thank you, _thank you_ , I’m sorry I’m _so sorry_.” He stammers as he crosses the front desk, slamming an obscene amount of currency on the counter, startling Celeste from her boredom induced slumber.

Nadine’s protests fall only on deaf ears as the prince swiftly and silently walks out the door.

* * *

As the prince leaves the shop, he can only think of one thing.  
Now that he knows what he is doomed to lose, he can’t help but feel as if he’s taken what he has now for granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello Nadine and Lumiere are both trans and also best friends and also the best characters
> 
> also, Important: When referring to Lunalei, it is expected that one uses French pronouns and title. It’s just a “this is how things are and you just have to roll with it” kind of thing. In this chapter, when speaking to Nadine and Celeste, Rowen at first says “Notre Reine,” which means “Our Queen,” which she quickly corrects to “My Reine,” aka “My Queen.” I’m not sure how well it came across, but this scene holds some significance. Rowen saying “Notre Reine,” was incorrect because, while her and Celeste both have a pact with Lunalei, Nadine does not. It was simply a slip of the tongue, but verbally assuming one’s pact, no matter how obvious it is by the shape of their eyes, is considered inappropriate and rude, hence, Rowen’s quick apology.


	4. Seduction and Sedation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rowen and Matilda finally meet.
> 
> and maybe fall in love a little bit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna clarify that when this is being written from Rowen's POV, Matilda is addressed with neutral pronouns because Matilda doesn't formally tell Rowen their pronouns and Rowen doesn't assume. At the end of the chapter I kept using they/them (even though it isn't Rowens POV), bc Matilda is cool with ALL pronouns and I just..... am too lazy to choose. Some chapters might refer to Matilda with they/them pronouns, some she/her, and probably some he/him too..... bc gender just really be like that.

It doesn’t take Rowen long to decide that her new plan is simply to do what she does best.

Unfortunately for literally everyone involved, the thing that she does best, is be stupid. (Well, she did not actively make the decision to be stupid, but she might as well have. Her plan is to basically ignore every piece of logical advice given to her. So - in summary - be stupid.)

As she stomps along the wooden walkway on the second floor of the City of the Two Queens, the floor dedicated to indulgences, she frustratedly crumples the age-worn paper in her hands. She inwardly curses whoever made this wretched, horridly incomprehensible map, and throws it in the next recycle bin she passes. It was basically useless anyway, the city of Rhegelia is multiple stories high and the picture on the map was an aerial view, so it didn't account for all four levels. Also, due to the sheer gargantuaness of the city, and the non-gargantuaness of the paper the map was on, the red circle meant to highlight a singular shop included nearly a square mile of real estate. So, Rowen was basically on her own in finding the place she’s searching for.

She is grateful, at least, for the clue about the nature of the shop, about the fact that it’s a bar - which clued her in on which floor of the city the building would be on. The problem is that the map did not mention the name of the bar, so with the fact that there are multiple bars located within the red circle drawn on the map, there is no way for Rowen to know which bar she enters is the right one, unless she sees the criminal there.

The possibility though, of her seeing the criminal _anywhere_ , of _recognizing_ them, is… minute, to say the least.

Nonetheless, she enters the third bar of the night, named _‘Agnikunda’_. She quickly glances at a clock on the adjacent wall and notes the time; 21:00.

 _Gods_ , she’s been at this for _hours_.

With a sigh, Rowen lowers her gaze to observe the interior of the bar. The rosewood color of the walls, the decorative golden trim along where said walls meet the ceiling and floor, and the soft silver hue emanating from the dimly glowing tiles are only barely registered by Rowen as her attention is taken by the bounteous amounts of people in the bistro. Along the walls of the bar, and occupying most of the left side, are tables where folks can sit. Nearly all of them are taken. People of all species chat idly with friends, partners, and strangers over drinks. On Rowen’s right, is a relatively large dance floor. Singles, couples, and triples dance to the base blaring from the speakers. Very few of their drunken flailings pass as articulate movements, but they laugh and smile nonetheless, seemingly oblivious - or simply careless - to the fools they make of themselves.

Rowen could certainly use a little bit of whatever they’ve had.

Towards the back and very center of the room, is a large bar, oblong and octagonal in shape, where a few lone customers sit, a couple of them lightly conversing with the bartenders behind the counter.

Perhaps it is a testament to how she had been unknowingly awaiting her own failure, the way her body jolted, the way her breath got caught in her throat. A testament to how she had been unconsciously fortifying herself for the seemingly inevitable future where she returns to her queen empty handed. A testament to how she didn’t expect for _this_ to happen.

But it _is_ happening.

She _sees them._

And nothing in the world matters more, because she can basically hear Lunalei’s praise already. They’re _right there,_ they’re _so close,_ and all Rowen needs to do is bring them to her queen.

As she walks towards them, she cannot help but notice the fact that they look nearly identical to how they did in the wanted poster, to how they did more than a century ago. Their hair is the same, they even have the same scars, which Rowen doesn’t have time to be unnerved by, because her brain is too hyper focused on the differences, the biggest one being their eyes. While they still hold the same symbol, the same golden pupil, the same triangular rays pointed away from the iris, they now hold an unmistakable fondness.

Love, even.

This revelation has Rowen stopping in her tracks. Confused and appalled, her eyes search for the one causing the criminal to to give off such an aura of adoration. Expecting to see a threat to her entire mission, she is somehow simultaneously affronted and unsurprised to see them speaking to _Lumiere_ with that stupid, heart eyed-look on their face.

The fact that - for some unknown reason - Lumiere is a bartender is only barely registered by Rowen,

because the prince is giving the criminal heart-eyes _right back_.

Rowen, feet rooted into the ground, continues to watch in awe as Lumiere appears to have a gleeful conversation with the human at the bar. She jumps as he suddenly barks out a laugh and slides the criminal another drink. The criminal’s shoulders shake as they giggle, their hand raised to cover their mouth to muffle the unsettling sound. Lumiere is called to a table across the bar, and he blows the human a kiss before tending to the other customer. The criminal waves heartily and watches him go, a soft smile on their face.

Another bartender, a large orcan with dark green skin and a horizontal scar across their nose almost immediately slides over to the criminal so they’re leaning on the bar directly in front of them. The human seems to blush at something the orc says to them, and they smack the orcs shoulder in an friendly fashion. At this, the orc throws their head back in a laugh, and leans back over the counter to give the criminal… a _hug_. Rowen stands frozen as she hears the criminal let out another feminine giggle, awkwardly patting the orc on the back.

She is only brought out of her stupor as someone lightly brushes past her, offering her a polite _“excuse me.”_ Rowen jumps back as if shocked by the brief contact, and whips around to see the perpetrator.

Lumiere

“You!” She yells lamely, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

Lumiere turns around so he’s facing Rowen and he has the _nerve_ to look confused, even briefly glancing behind him as if she would be referring to _literally anyone else._

He looks back at her and meekly points at his own chest and, with a mocking sincerity, says, “Me?”

Rowen is fuming now. “Yes, you!” She whisper-yells, “Do you have any idea what you were just doing!?”

Lumiere tilts his head curiously, and answers, “... my… job?”

“You were just talking to the criminal!” She says, teeth grinding.

”Yes, I am aware”

“You-“ she stops, her brain short-circuiting as she processes the fact that the prince wasn’t just being stupid and oblivious, the fact that he knew _exactly_ what he was doing, “WHAT? You _know_ them?” She basically yells, thrusting a hand in the direction of the human and praying they aren’t looking her way.

“They’re here nearly every night” he says with a shrug.

Rowen pinches the bridge of her nose, willing her fury to stay at bay. She inhales slowly through her nose and out of her mouth. “You see them…” she starts, her voice dangerously calm, “ _every night_ , and you haven’t caught them? You haven’t even called the guard?”

“No,” he says simply, as if he truly believes his actions do not warrant an explanation.

Rowen feels her anger rising, her hands gesture wildly as she yells, “You just let them walk in and walk out!?”

Infuriatingly, Lumiere just shrugs once again. “I mean, they never cause any problems. They pay for their drinks.”

“They don’t even look over 21!” She yells.

“That’s none of my business” he replies lamely.

_“YES IT IS!”_

He sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose like Rowen had just done moments before. Rowen has a feeling that he’s rolling his eyes, despite his lack of an iris or pupil which would be necessary for her to take notice of the motion. He then says, “It’s not my job to catch the criminal, it’s yours.” He speaks slowly, his voice demeaning. He sounds like he’s trying to explain this situation in the way one would to a toddler. Rowen hates it.

“Yeah well,” she starts, nearly choked up with anger. “Last time I checked, as _Prince,_ it is your _duty_ to _protect_ the citizens you are one day destined to rule.” She says with a snarl.

To Rowen’s absolute fury, and unrecognized relief, Lumiere barely reacts to her quip. “I am not Lumiere the Prince right now.” He says simply, “I am Lumiere the bartender.”

Before Rowen can calm her enraged sputtering enough to conjure a coherent response, he continues.

“Have you ever noticed how no one addresses me as the Prince here, how they don’t even seem to recognize me as anyone other than their bartender. No one scrambling to pay the respect I am to receive only out of obligation to my title.”

No, Rowen wants to say, she had never noticed that. But her confusion has her keeping her mouth shut, as she continues to stare at him dumbly.

“It’s a _spell,_ Rowen,” He says exasperatedly, “No one will recognize me here, because - while they are physically able to see me as I am - the spell interferes with their brains’ comprehension of the visual input they are receiving.”

Rowen, feeling argumentative, begins to object, for she had been able to recognize him immediately, but Lumiere holds up a hand, and Rowen’s mouth snaps shut without her brain’s permission.

“This is the case, unless,” he holds up a single finger, “the person was - whether it be consciously or subconsciously - already expecting to see me here, or already actively looking for me,” he says as he lightly taps Rowen’s nose before she can recoil outside of his slimy reach.

Lumiere smirks as he watches Rowen overdramatically wipe her nose, supposedly ridding her skin of his touch. He once again interrupts her indignant sputtering,

“What I am trying to say is that I have no obligation to be the Prince here. More importantly, it is not my job to be the prince here. My job here,” his smirk widens into a pearly-toothed grin, “is to serve alcohol,” he places a glass of wine on the table beside them, “and charm the locals,” he finishes, winking at her. Rowen feels sick.

“Fine!” She blurts, probably a little too loudly. She composes herself, “fine. I’ll just - I’ll just get them myself!”

“Oh?” Lumiere replies slyly, one eyebrow raised, “And how do you suppose you are going to do that?”

Perhaps if Rowen were in her right mind, she would wonder why he wants to know. More importantly, she would remember the interaction she observed between him and the criminal. The look present in both of their eyes when they looked at each other, a look reserved for those certainly more than just a recurring customer. But she is not in her right mind. Desperate to prove herself to the person she despises most, she says, “I’ll just - I’ll be their friend! I’ll trick them into developing a false sense of security around me and then BAM!” She slams her fist into the palm of her other hand. “I got em!”

Lumiere just stares at her incredulously for a few seconds, mouth hanging open slightly, before he doubles over, clutching his abdomen as he laughs loudly. The sound bounces off the walls of the bar, it’s not enough to cause the customers to go silent entirely, but the background noise seems to fade slightly as people’s attention shift to Lumiere.

Even the criminal, Rowen realizes belatedly, is looking at him.

She glances back at them and with what feels like a shock of electricity, she notices that no, they’re looking at _her_. Rowen’s breath catches in her throat as the criminal’s curious eyes briefly meet her own.

But then they’re turning back to their previous conversation with the orc, and Rowen is suddenly able to breathe again.

Lumiere straightens once again and with a sparkle in his eyes and laughter still evident in his voice he says, “Very well then.”

Rowen, inwardly disappointed at his response, just huffs and turns sharply, not sure where she’s headed but determined to get away from the Prince.

Before she could take a step though, a hand descends on her shoulder, effectively keeping her in place. She didn’t see as much as feel Lumiere lean down so that his lips nearly brushed Rowen’s ear. “Be careful though, Rowen,” He says, almost whispering, “they’re _feisty._ ”

Rowen stands there, stock still, as Lumiere barks out another hearty laugh and harshly claps her on the back before walking away.

It must have been seconds, but the time it took Rowen to finally gather enough willpower to move her legs felt like an eternity. Slowly, she makes her way to the bar. She notices the criminal is still sitting there, their orcan friend is now serving drinks on the other side of the bar. They sit with their legs crossed, back slouched, and Rowen is unsettled to see them looking… sad, almost. Their chin is perched in their palm, and the other hand lazily swirls the liquid in their drink.

Rowen, unnerved, elects to sit in an empty seat two spots away from the criminal. No one is seated in between them.

At first, she just sits there silently, not acknowledging the human, them doing the same. After a few minutes, she decides that, since she is in a bar, she could stand to have a drink.

She calls over one of the bartenders, the orcan, and requests something light. The orcan - whose name is Florence, as Rowen gathers from their name tag - responds with a sharp toothed yet kind smile and begins to make her a drink. Rowen watches with narrowed eyes as Lumiere saunters up to Florence and whispers something that sounds suspiciously like _“ID her.”_ To this, the orc groans and just continues making Rowen’s drink. When they seem satisfied their concoction, they slide it to Rowen. They seem to be about to ask for something, but they stop when they notice Rowen already has her identification out. Florence plucks it from her hand, and seems to search for something over Rowen’s head. She watches as the orc waves her identification in the air and winks at someone. Rowen turns around to see Lumiere on the other side of the bar giving the orc a thumbs up and a wink in return.

Florence just chuckles and says “here,” and when Rowen turns back around, they return her ID with a kind and somewhat apologetic smile. Rowen mumbles a confused yet polite, “thank you,” as she puts it back in her pocket. She ruffles around in her pocket briefly, feeling for the vial containing the sedative. As her fingers wrap around the cold glass of the vial she lets out a sigh of relief. Still there.

She somewhat absently takes a sip of her drink, barely appreciating the pleasant taste of strawberries and bubblegum as she loses herself in her own mind, trying to come up with a more solid plan regarding the capturing of the criminal literally four feet away from her.

Rowen’s social skills have never been top notch, one might even venture to say they were bad. It isn’t her fault, of course - she grew up as a single child and never had any friends - but that doesn’t negate the truthfulness of the statement. Admittedly, she has no idea why her plan is to somehow _charm_ the criminal, when the very idea of initiating a conversation with them is enough to nearly paralyze her with fear.

Rowen is startled out of her reverie by a smooth voice, “So, you know Lumiere?”

She slowly turns her head to her left and sees the criminal looking more lively than they had been before, their eyes twinkling as they meet hers.

Rowen very nearly chokes.

Out of every single possible scenario Rowen conjured up in her mind about how the conversation would go, not a single one began with the criminal being the initiator. Rowen is immediately caught off guard, and every single plan in her head seems to fly out the window as she stares at the criminal dumbly. She is only barely able to choke out a lame “Oh uh, yeah?” She says it more like a question than an answer.

The human isn’t deterred, though, looking even more curious as before, “Is he a friend of yours?” They ask.

Rowen, remembering the friendly interaction between the prince and criminal, and the way Lumiere spoke of the human fondly, realizes that this, _this_ could be her way in.

“Uh - uh, yeah,” she says somewhat noncommittedly, her hand reaching up to rub the back of her neck nervously.

It’s the absence her sword - normally strapped to the back of her neck and hidden behind her hair - that has her blood running cold. Icy tendrils latch onto her rib cage and pull at her heart as the realization hits her. She forgot to retrieve it from Celeste after she confiscated it. She is weaponless, and in the presence of an incomprehensibly powerful criminal

Said criminal does not seem to notice Rowen’s mental breakdown as they continue with the conversation, looking confused. Their brows furrow and their back straightens. Their eyes narrow as they seem to lean closer to Rowen and say, “Is he…” they pause for emphasis, “a... _friend_ … of yours?”

Despite Rowen’s trouble with social interactions, she knows what that tone of voice means, and she’s already stretching herself thin calling Lumiere a friend.

“No!” Rowen says, probably a little too loudly, waving her hands dramatically, “No, no. It’s not like that! We’re friends! Just friends.”

At this, the tension seems to ease from the criminals shoulders as they lean back in their chair, still regarding Rowen with a curious glint in their eye. “Well that’s good.” They say simply.

Rowen’s head tilts slightly in confusion, what does _that_ mean…?

It hits her as she watches the criminal take a small sip of their drink, their body still facing Rowen but their head tilted away, showing their profile. Her eyes widen as she follows the humans gaze. They’re looking at Lumiere.

Oh.

_Oh._

Seeking to confirm her suspicions, Rowen slowly asks, “So are you and him… uh…” she trails off, wringing her fingers together nervously.

The human looks at Rowen in confusion “are me and Lumiere…?” They prompt, obviously not understanding what Rowen inferring.

“Like, uh, together…?” Rowen squeaks out, and then quickly takes a gulp of her drink as an excuse to not make eye contact with the human.

The criminal, wide eyed, just stares at her for a few seconds before reverently shaking their head, “Oh! Oh, no! Lumiere and I are just friends! I mean, there was something _once_ , but that was like, _seventy_ years ago, and it just didn’t work out. Plus, I’m a lesbian so-“

At this, Rowen does choke.

She only absently notes the hand smacking her back as she coughs and gasps for breath.

She soon regains her bearings, and turns in the direction of the human, ready to apologize, before her breath is once again caught in her throat.

The human had moved during her coughing fit so that they now occupied the seat right next to Rowen.

Rowen’s brain stalls as she makes eye contact with them, noses inches apart.

(She would later heatedly argue that the way her mouth dried up and heart skipped a beat was a result of fear. Fear of the criminal that could so easily take her life then and there, because such an emotion would be honorable in her situation.

But even she, as naïve as she is, knows that this is not fear.

Though she isn’t sure what it is quite yet.)

The criminals eyes widen and they flinch backwards. They apologize quickly and almost robotically thrust their hand out in front of Rowen.

“I’m uh, Matilda, by the way.” They - _Matilda_ \- says nervously, hand still outstretched, presumably waiting for Rowen to shake it.

For some reason, Rowen had never entertained the possibility that the criminal had a name. The realization of the fact that this human was in fact, not only a criminal, but also a real person, leaves her reeling.

“Rowen,” the girl chokes out in response, taking Matilda’s hand and jerkily shaking it.

Matilda smiles, a contagious thing, really, so much so that Rowen finds herself doing the same.

The humans eyes flicker to Rowen’s now empty glass and they say, “Let me get you another drink,” and before Rowen can protest (not that she would have, anyway,) Matilda simply raises their hand and Florence smiles and nods in their direction.

But then Matilda, wide eyed, seems to suddenly becomes aware of their own actions. They lower their hand abruptly and turn to Rowen, all of their suave and confidence gone from their face, now occupied by nervousness and timidity. They open their mouth and hesitantly ask, “That’s, uh - that’s okay, right?”

The world seems to disappear around her as Rowen observes their face. Their eyebrows are turned inward and upward, forming a small crease in between them. Their lips are pulled down in a slight frown. Their face is a painting of nervousness, of fear, as if Matilda feels they have just horribly dishonored Rowen by buying her a drink, by doing something nice.

The look in Matilda’s eyes has Rowen’s own watering.

And just like many other things in her life, she isn’t quite sure why.

Rowen just nods, unable to speak past the lump growing deep in her throat, past the ache pulling incessantly at her chest.

Past the ever-loudening mantra in her mind of, _“this cannot be the criminal.”_

But they are. She _knows_ they are.

And that scares her.

Because the human that Rowen has been interacting with is just so… _human._ So real, so complex in ways she has never encountered in any of those who had previously been doomed to fall victim to her sword. Those who Rowen has previously been sent to eliminate were criminals - _only_ criminals - to her. But this one is different. _Matilda_ is different. 

Rowen watches as Matilda _(the criminal, the criminal, the criminal, **the crimi-** )_ smiles in response to her affirmative. A dark blush colors their face and ears, and they self consciously raise their hands to cover their cheeks, before flusteredly turning away from her.

Rowen is stuck staring at the back of their head, and for the first time _ever,_ she finds herself questioning Lunalei’s objectives.

But her uncertainty is brief, gone as quickly as it came. Because her Queen is _never_ wrong.

Rowen has a job to do. And may the Queen herself smite her where she stands if she does not do it.

So, Rowen takes a deep breath and blinks rapidly to rid the unwarranted water gathering in her eyes. She turns to observe Matilda, who is now flamboyantly thanking their orcan friend as they retrieve two identical drinks from the bartender’s hands. 

Matilda presents one of the drinks to Rowen, who takes it with subtly shaking hands. They both take a drink (Rowen’s is probably larger than necessary, but she needs it.)

The human sets their glass, still mostly full, on the bar, and uses their right hand to support their chin as they look at Rowen thoughtfully. 

“So,” they drawl, “what do you do, Rowen?”

(Rowen tries to ignore the way Matilda says her name makes her body grow cold, makes her skin crawl.)

She’s lucky that this is one of the questions she was expecting the criminal to ask her, because with the way her heart is beating and the way her brain is buzzing, she’s sure she would not have been able to come up with a viable response if she hadn’t already formulated one.

Rowen shrugs in a way that she hopes seems nonchalant, as she explains, “I’m a sentry. I basically just make sure there’s no one in Lunalei’s palace that doesn’t belong there.”

If she hadn’t been paying such close attention to Matilda, she would not have noticed their minute flinch at _‘Lunalei’._ But she was, and she did. She files that observation away in her brain for later reference.

Matilda lets out a hum in response, having already schooled their expression back into one of mild curiosity. They pick up their glass and start lazily swirling the liquid inside. “So, what brings you to the city? Lunalei not need _protecting_ today?” 

Rowen almost flinches at their change in tone, at the way their eyes darken, still transfixed on the tiny whirlpool inside of their glass. It is not only the tone of their voice that has Rowen itching to reach for her sword that she no longer has, but the words they speak.

Why did they say it like that, and what did they mean?

“Well,” Rowen starts nervously, unconsciously scratching her neck, “every-everyone has days off. I mean-“

Rowen’s tone seems to make Matilda become aware of their own hostility, and they immediately whirl around to placatingly wave their hands in front of them “I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - I don’t know why I said it like that!” They say somewhat breathlessly. They look and sound apologetic. Rowen can’t tell if it’s real.

“It’s, uh - It’s fine,” Rowen says slowly, confusedly.

Her response doesn’t seem to quell Matilda’s nerves, if anything, they look even more anxious.

“Uh - I’m sorry, would you mind if I go use the ladies room, real quick?” They ask hurriedly, offering Rowen a quick smile out of politeness, and scurrying away without waiting for an affirmative.

Rowen is left staring at the now vacant seat beside her, wondering what exactly went wrong. Matilda, at first, seemed confident, charismatic, and borderline flirty. Their words flowed with a smoothness that had Rowen captivated by their first interaction. This demeanor only lasted until Rowen mentioned Lunalei. The very subject of the Queen transformed the human into a cocktail of nerves and poorly concealed bitterness.

Rowen suddenly remembers the shudder that not-so-subtly wracked the Queen’s body as she mentioned the criminal. Both of their reactions to the other seemed to support the theory that Matilda and Lunalei knew each other. And not only on a “know _of_ ” level, but a _personal_ one.

Whatever the human did, was a crime against Lunalei on a personal level. A direct attack.

This makes Rowen wonder why Lunalei did not immediately eliminate them when the event took place. It made her wonder why Lunalei sent _her_. Why Lunalei gave her this mission more than a century after the crime occurred.

Wait, _the mission._

Rowen’s hand shoots to her left pocket, feels the cool glass containing the sedative.

_Now’s her chance._

She wraps her fingers around the vile and begins to slowly pull it out of her pocket. She looks around in a way she hopes appears nonchalant and she registers that; 1.) Matilda is nowhere to be seen, and 2.) _no one is looking at her._

With her left hand, she uncaps the sedative with the nail of her thumb. With her right hand she reaches over and picks up Matilda’s half empty glass. Rowen looks around, one last time, before pouring the entire vile into the humans drink. (In hindsight, the fact that the sedative was the same color as what they both were drinking, thus making it nearly impossible to tell which drink contained the poison, was a complication that could have easily been avoided. But Rowen didn’t have time to dwell on that fact.) She then hastily places it back to where the human was sitting, spilling a small amount in the process.

She returns the now empty vile back to her pocket, and tries to look nonchalant as she waits for Matilda to return.

Another minute passes and Rowen hears the restroom door open, and watches as Matilda exits and begins walking towards her. 

Only to halt in their steps as Florence blocks their path and begins talking animatedly to them. Rowen sighs loudly and lazily tips her head back far enough to see behind her, only to jolt straight up as she sees Lumiere right there, looking at her boredly as he wipes the bar with a damp cloth.

After just staring at each other for several seconds, Rowen - on her last fucking _nerve_ with this guy - whirls around to face Lumiere directly and shrieks, “What!?”

And to Rowen’s bewilderment, he just offers her a smirk, and leaves her alone.

Before she has time to even process whatever _that_ was, Matilda returns to the seat next to her.

“Hey, sorry,” they start, and run a hand through their hair, Rowen’s eyes transfixed on the movement, “Where were we?” They ask, hand lowering to allow their chin to rest on their open palm, their lips turned upwards at one end, and their eyes practically sparkling with mischief in a way that has Rowen’s chest fluttering

“I - uh, we - uh,” Rowen starts, before pausing. She is momentarily distracted by the abrupt start of a new song, one she recognizes for the first time of the night. Matilda notices, and decides to take advantage of Rowen’s silence to ask, “Do you dance, Rowen?”

Rowen, stunned by the question, answers, “Yeah, uh - kind of?”

At this, Matilda’s smile widens. They abruptly grab their glass, _chugs the entire thing_ -

(Rowen, having been taking a drink from her own glass, almost chokes as she watches Matilda down the drink. _All of it_. Sedative and all.)

-and twirls out of their seat with a surprising amount of grace. They then halt so that their standing directly in front of Rowen, and they hold out a hand.

Rowen takes it before she can thoroughly process what she’s getting herself into.

Matilda’s grin grows impossibly wider at the contact. They close their fingers around Rowen’s and begins to gently, yet excitedly tug her towards the dance floor. They shift through the crowd. Rowen is already regretting every single one of her life decisions as she is pushed and shoved every which way as she desperately hangs onto Matilda’s hand. They halt in the middle of the dance floor, where there is enough room or them both to stand comfortably. Matilda turns to face Rowen and holds out the hand that is not already occupied by her own.

Rowen, once again, takes it.

Rowen had assumed that, since Matilda had asked _her_ if _she_ knew how to dance, and the fact that Matilda took _her_ to the dance floor, that _they_ at least knew how to dance.

She had assumed wrong.

The way Matilda jumps into action the second her hand is wrapped around their own speaks of no kind of dance Rowen has ever seen before. They twirl around and stomp their feet on the floor and hold Rowen’s hands like a lifeline. It just looks so _stupid_ that she can’t help but blurt, “ _This_ is what you call dancing?”

At that, Matilda laughs.

And _wow,_ what a laugh!

It is at that moment that Rowen realizes that this is the end for her, that she’s reaching some sort of event horizon, the point from which there is no return, because - just like she’s read in hundreds of books, seen in hundreds of movies - time slows down. The background noise fades entirely, the faces in her peripheral blur, and all Rowen can see is Matilda.

She watches breathlessly as the scar that runs diagonally across Matilda’s nose scrunches, as their eyes close and their eyebrows turn upwards, as they laugh. The sound bounces off of the walls, plays at maximum volume from every possible angle.

The laugh is different from the reserved giggles and soft chuckles she heard them give Lumiere and Florence. Because this one is for her. _Rowen_ caused them to laugh like this. And it sounds beautiful.

Perhaps more beautiful than the praise from Lunalei when Rowen delivers her their body.

But neither Rowen nor Matilda have the time to dwell on that.

Because the sedative should begin kicking in _very_ soon.

Some time during her reverie, Matilda had stopped laughing, and they were now looking at Rowen with concern. They slowly guide the both of them to a stop. They bend down slightly to look Rowen in the eyes and they ask, “Are you alright? Was it the dancing? Are you dizzy? Do you feel sick?”

Their nervous chatters fade into the background as Rowen struggles to maintain her balance. She knows her body is no longer moving, but the world around her continues to spin. Her brain is pulsing loudly and painfully and she tears her hands out of Matilda’s to clutch fruitfully at her head. Her eyes, almost comically wide, shut tightly after large black spots begin to flower in her vision.

But then there is no pain, no pulsing, and Rowen hesitantly removes her hands from her head. Realizing what is about to happen, she looks up quickly to see Matilda still in front of her, looking at her with wide eyes and hovering hands.

Rowen can only get out a cryptic _“Something’s wrong,”_ before everything goes dark.

Matilda lets out a sound that can only be described as a squawk as Rowens body pitches to the left, limbs going completely limp as if she were a puppet rid of its strings. They are able to thrust forward and worm a hand under her back just before Rowen’s head makes contact with the floor. They maneuver her body so that their sides are pressed together and Rowen’s limp arm is resting on Matilda’s opposite shoulder. The position makes look almost like Rowen is still somewhat conscious, but the way her head tips forward and how Matilda has to carry her entire weight attest otherwise.

Matilda gets them both away from the dance floor as quickly as possible, and they walk urgently to where they’ve spotted Lumiere behind the bar.

“Lumie!” They whisper-yell, pulling Rowen’s hand back from where it fell off of their shoulder.

Lumiere turns around stoically and neutrally regards the human in a way that pretty much _proves_ to Matilda that he has something to do with all of this.

“Hello Matilda.”

Matilda sighs, “Okay, so I saw you talking to this girl-” they gestures to Rowen with her free hand, as if Lumiere couldn’t guess who they were referring to, “-earlier and she said you were friends and I was wondering if you knew where she liv-”

“I have never met that woman in my life,” Lumiere interrupts them.

“I literally watched you have a five minute conversation with her. She obviously _recognized_ you, even with the spell.” They say heatedly.

“I do not recall.”

Matilda pinches the bridge of their nose. “Listen, I think she was drugged or something because she just completely passed out while we were dancing,” (Matilda selectively ignores Lumieres suggestive “hm?” as he considers the prospect of the two girls dancing) “and I need to take her home or somewhere safe so nothing happens to her.”

Lumiere’s eyes flash with a hesitant softness and Matilda is sure that he is going to help them, but he then simply shrugs and says, more sympathetically this time, “I’m sorry, I really don’t know where she lives.”

Matilda, dejected, just huffs and turns towards the exit. It is when the bell rings as Matilda opens the door that she faintly hears Lumiere yell, “Good luck anyway!”

They mumble a sarcastic _“thank you”_ that the Prince could not have possibly have heard, and they leave.

Once a good distance from the bar, Matilda gently lowers Rowen’s still unconscious body onto the wooden walkway. They sit on their knees in front of where they’ve maneuvered Rowen to be sitting relatively upright against a shop. The streetlight behind them dimly lights Rowens face as she sleeps.

Matilda finds themself lightly tracing their fingers over the freckles on her right cheek, placed thoughtfully, as if by the stars themselves, in the shape of the Big Dipper. Rowen seems to unconsciously lean into their touch.

At this, Matilda’s breath seizes, before relaxing and laughing quietly.

They stand and pick up Rowen, maneuvering her so that she’s slung across their back piggy-back style, and they begin to walk.


End file.
